


The Theory of Partial Duality

by TsubasaKKruger



Series: Kurosawa Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Naruto
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Dimension Travel, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Post Hogwarts AU, Pre-Series (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsubasaKKruger/pseuds/TsubasaKKruger
Summary: A strange accident results in the Golden Trio de-aged and in a different world. Welcomed in Konoha and into her military ranks, they strive to be the best ninja they can be... all the while causing not-so-small ripples with consequences that are yet to be seen.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and others. Naruto belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Anything not part of either canon universe is either property of Tsubasa K. Kruger or of someone else who will be appropriately credited in the corresponding chapter.
> 
> Note: This is the first of four volumes belonging to my Kurosawa Chronicles saga. It'll be a monstrosity spanning almost thirty years, starting near the end of the Second Shinobi World War and finishing around the Fourth SWW. Thus, when updates actually start it might be moderately slow-going.
> 
> Note 2: The Kurosawa Chronicles saga features a female Harry. Readers should assume that everything was more or less the same, because in the HP continuity this starts a few years after the Battle of Hogwarts and events of that will be only referenced to with maybe the occasional flashback. Other than the prologue, the saga takes place entirely in the Naruto universe.
> 
> Note 3: As implied above, this is not actually the start of the story, but just a teaser of a future project to test the waters, so to speak. There are three chapters ready and several snippets of future chapters and volumes more or less finished, but updates will probably not start either until War of the Immortals is complete or until there are several more linear chapters ready to be published.

_****_ _**July 30, 2000. London, England.** _

The day began normally for Wes Black, police officer. He woke up without an alarm, quietly got ready for his day trying not to wake his pregnant wife, grabbed his keys and left with a slice of bread in hand (he was feeling in the mood for a coffee from that shop down the street from the station). The way from home to work was quick and calm, something he had predicted given it was a Sunday in the middle of the summer holidays, and so was the first part of his day.

The police's job had been fairly easy the past two years. After the sudden bout of violent and unexplainable happenings that had taken place the few years before that, this lull was as strange as it was welcomed. Wes himself was one of the officers that had gotten out of the academy in time to catch the first _really_ weird episodes, like the scarred, maimed man that didn't seem to exist until his corpse literally dropped from the sky during that July night back in '97, only to disappear from the morgue hours later.

That one night had been almost in the middle of the two really bad years, with the old man serving as the beginning of a nightmare that ended around May the following year. Of course, with his first year in the force being such madness, this normalcy left the officers that began working during that time feeling strange, as if something more should be happening and not knowing how to react when it _didn't_.

That said, patrolling London was incredibly dull compared to _those_ months. Wes Black almost wished for something unexplainably gruesome to happen, just to have a feel at that rush again. He was actually considering joining the army at this point, so bored he was.

That would be the reason why he was glad to have been assigned to the station for a while, seeing as his wife was nearing the end of her pregnancy. In here, he had a chance to hear really weird and/or funny stories, like the woman that came a few times a week claiming that her trash can was making noises again.

He got another feel at that rush that'd marked his first year as a policeman just a few minutes short of noon.

Wes was on the phone, listening to the old woman from downtown London complain about kids running around in old-fashioned dresses and waving sticks around, when a sudden explosion rocked the station making every person standing lose their footing.

The officers in the station didn't get to go and see _what_ had happened, but one of his old friends from their trainee days (who was patrolling near the area at the time) told him that the centre was in the block two streets to the south – which thankfully didn't have as many people as it normally would due to it being a Sunday during the summer holidays. If he was to believe her, the damage was such that a building would probably need to be demolished and reconstructed, as it would actually be cheaper and safer for everyone.

He found out from the news later that day, once back home, that no one had died and just ten people had been mildly injured, seventeen barely scraped and thirty unharmed. Very fortunate, that.

During the next week, the station was abuzz with energy as people tried to figure out what had happened. They never got to find out, and the topic was dropped after a vague excuse about malfunctioning plumbing.

It was so similar to what had happened _that_ year that Wes Black felt a shiver go down his spine, but as the weeks passed and no other strange event followed, he found himself half relieved and half disappointed.

It had been such a good feeling, too.

But the young police officer hadn't been exactly wrong in his suspicions that this was somehow related to those days.

Because, while it wasn't exactly the same thing, and it had been more of an accident than an attack, the same kind of people had been involved– not that he would ever know.

The Ministry of Magic, which ruled over the hidden community that was so much smaller than the rest of the country, had taken care of that – after they stopped freaking out and running around like headless chicken.

The day of the explosion had begun as normally to them as it did to Wes Black. It was a controlled chaos, the sort of thing that was commonplace for wizardkind even in the centre of their government.

(Well, actually, the Ministry was sometimes _more_ chaotic than the rest of Britain. It was probably the best proof that wizards and normal humans were inherently different in ways different than magic.)

Around 11am alarms had been tripped in the ninth floor, which was once again somewhat common as some could not resist the lure of the appropriately named Department of Mysteries, and a team of Unspeakables (three experienced field agents, codenamed Team Zeta, plus the Department rookie and their current trainee – to show them how to deal with intruders) were dispatched by the boss to find out who was the on-duty genius and deal with them as needed. It was all very normal and routine, which would be why the outcome shook them so much.

Indeed, the Unspeakables had been quick to find the intruder (hooded and masked, as if _that_ was original), who led them on a merry chase around the various rooms in the Department (again, typical. No one would go quietly, after all, when they had the chance to snoop around some more while they tried to escape).

It was only after five minutes of running around that the leader, Unspeakable Boar, realized something was wrong. Unlike most intruders, who clearly didn't know where they were going, _this_ one seemed to have a purpose – granted, it didn't look as if they knew where their target was, but it was obvious that there _was_ a target.

Using the Department's code language, Boar signalled his suspicions to the other four, gaining grunts of annoyance from his actual teammates and quiet sighs from the other two – these intruders were normally the trickiest to catch, and sometimes the result was _another_ investigation to find out how in Merlin's name had the newest genius heard about whatever they were looking for.

The leader fought a grin when Snake, his older teammate and the youngest member of the Department (even younger than the trainee and rookie themselves), signalled back a question on how to proceed. He knew her enough to realize that she clearly _had_ a plan, one that she reluctantly relayed after he asked.

The plan was brilliant in its simplicity, and he had the impression she had already done something similar. Knowing who she was, though, she probably had – and multiple times, too. He really liked working with the kid, which is why he'd asked the Boss if he could have her in his team when he was promoted to team leader during her trainee days – she was a trainee for less time than was usual because of that, but no one could deny that she had been more than ready to be promoted to rookie.

_Do it_ , he signalled. The others nodded and scattered, with only the trainee remaining at his side.

They ran directly behind the intruder, slowly driving them to the arranged point via spells and curses. Dog had a good aim, he noticed; it was easy for him to see that the boy was carefully pointing his wand so the jets of light would fail to hit the one they were pursuing.

It took five more minutes, but they eventually reached Death's Chamber. The Unspeakables stopped at the top of the stairs and ran to the sides for a broader range, still shooting spells at the running stranger. The intruder didn't seem to realize that they weren't in direct pursuit anymore, at least not until two jets of light missed their torso by inches and a third hit their forehead just above the left brow.

The five Unspeakables cautiously closed in on the fallen figure, and a nod had Snake getting rid of the plain mask their target was using.

"Malfoy junior" she muttered, frowning. "I don't know why I'm not surprised."

"Well, that explains it, I suppose" said the leader. "Malfoy senior was friends with Rookwood, and we know the bastard gave information on the Department to Voldemort. It would be well within the realm of reason to think that the boy managed to get his hands in some of it."

"What do you think he was looking for?" asked Otter.

"Time's Room?" Bird suggested. "It would allow him to go back and change how the war ended for his family."

Snake kneeled next to the unconscious blond ponce, and Boar had the distinct impression she was frowning.

"It doesn't sound right" she muttered. "I mean, sure, he'd love to have his family's name somewhat restored, but... to take the risk himself..."

"He's a bloody coward" Dog agreed. "Even if he doesn't have much money nowadays, it would make much more sense to have contracted someone to do the dirty job for him or have his back in here. For junior to be alone..."

"Oh, the boy is not alone."

The five tensed. Snake slowly stood up, and Boar put himself in front of the group.

"Rookwood" he growled.

"Now, now, Boar, is that a way to greet an old friend?" taunted the former Unspeakable, walking from behind the stone archway that housed the Veil. He was dressed in full Death Eater regalia, mask included, but it was evident it was him – if only because of the arrogant tone. Voice-changing charms could be used, but the way he spoke was nevertheless unmistakable.

"You were not a friend" the man answered, gritting his teeth. "Or did you forget who killed Tiger?"

"Ah, yes, Marlene was your girlfriend, wasn't she? Lovely girl, too bad she was a blood traitor."

"Shut the hell up."

Rookwood didn't seem concerned with the five wands pointed at him. He tilted his head to the side, seemingly curious, and continued.

"I'm not surprised you don't shoot, Boar –you've always been a bit too hesitant–, but I don't understand why your little ducklings are holding their spells, especially young Snake there. I hear she's very protective of Team... Zeta, was it? I had actually expected to have to dodge curses as soon as I spoke."

"The Department is more disciplined nowadays" he growled in a fair imitation of his animal mask. "They would kill you if I told them to."

Behind him, Snake tensed and aimed as if to prove his point. Frankly, Boar was a bit surprised she hadn't sent a curse already, considering who'd died under this bastard's wand during the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Oh, really?" Rookwood bared his teeth mockingly. "Why don't you prove it, then?"

"Boar" Bird warned, seeing her superior's hand clench around his wand just as easily as she noted Snake's tense back. "Something isn't right."

"You mean, aside from the fact that this bastard should be dead?"

Snake shook her head, seeming reluctant to speak up. "Why would he practically _ask_ us to attack him?"

"We can't let him go."

"Yet we can't attack to kill."

Boar bared his teeth, but the fierce expression on his scarred face was lost behind the mask. He almost reminded her of what she'd lost, but felt that it would've been a low blow – he wouldn't have liked to be reminded of Marlene, either.

Rookwood, apparently bored at the interaction between the Ministry workers, raised his arm and shot a spell at Snake, so unexpectedly quick she couldn't completely get out of the way. And then, at the sight of the girl being hit just on the outer edge of her left brow, all Hell broke loose.

In the ensuing madness, every single one of the other four Unspeakables was hit with a jet of light identical to the one that got to their fallen comrade... only that none of them was rendered unconscious. After hitting Boar with no apparent result, Rookwood threw his head back and laughed loudly.

"Yes! Yes! I can still bring Him back!"

His moment of inattention was paid dearly, as he was simultaneously reached by four nasty-looking spells and thrown back until his back snapped against the archway. He was laughing all the way, though, and he looked up at the approaching Boar with his eyes shining madly.

"The Master can still be brought back!" he exclaimed gleefully.

Boar didn't seem impressed as he almost casually crushed Rookwood's hand beneath the heel of his heavy boot. "You came here to find a way to bring Voldemort back" he stated flatly, as if not sure if he should ask or not.

The Death Eater grinned, his teeth red with his own blood. "I already have a way" he announced, relishing in the way the four conscious Unspeakables tensed at his words. "I just needed to check something. And I did. The Master will be back!"

"You will not get out of here alive" the team leader snarled, forcing more of his weight against Rookwood's hand. "In case you forgot, Death's Chamber always asks for a tribute before allowing people to leave it."

Rookwood cackled madly. "But I don't need to get out! I needed to be here!"

Behind their masks, the Unspeakables fought to stay calm.

"Why?"

The fallen man gave a feral, mad grin. Instead of answering, he showed them the palm of his uninjured hand, where a strange symbol had been branded on his skin. Before any of them could react, he thrust that hand through the Veil.

Boar retreated quickly, instinctively, and stopped when he noticed that their enemy wasn't being sucked into the archway they had been studying for decades. Rookwood's grin widened as he twisted his body to place his other hand inside before he yelled something, in a hiss they recognized as bastardized Parseltongue.

Deep within the Department of Mysteries, in the heavily hidden common office of the Unspeakables, alarms whose purpose they'd been trying to discover for centuries started blaring, making all the on-duty workers jump to their feet with backs ramrod straight out of pure confused nervousness.

"Lion, Tiger!" snapped the Department Head, Phoenix, somewhat making herself heard over the noise. "Go find out what the hell–"

The world exploded.

No Unspeakable knew how long passed until their ears finally stopped ringing and they could stand up, slowly and carefully, holding on to something and wobbling weakly. The boss was the first to recover, however, and started casting spells like crazy to get everyone else in the right state to work.

"Lion, Tiger, take your teams and two extras each and sweep the Department. Panther, go to the monitoring room to check the status of our people. Monkey, summon every off-duty Unspeakable to their posts, priority as of yet unknown. Chameleon, with me. Everyone else, make yourselves useful."

There was no need of any more words, as all the people in the room had almost vanished in their haste to get to work.

Up in the Atrium, nervous crowds parted as two figures cloaked in black and with golden animal-themed masks firmly in place strode from the elevators towards Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was in the middle of the over-excited action trying to calm things down enough to put people to investigate (that even the Aurors, the supposed elite, were running around in a panicked aimlessness was no surprise to Phoenix).

"Minister" snapped the boss as soon as she was within hearing range.

The former Auror turned around quickly, not having noticed her approach (though how was that possible, seeing as people as a norm got quiet whenever they spotted Unspeakables nearby, was a mystery – pun unintended), and nodded once. "Phoenix. Any news?"

"Not yet. Judging by the effect down in my Department, that's where it came from. I have deployed my Unspeakables and more are on their way. I will let you know."

"Excellent. I–"

"Boss" called Chameleon, looking up from the small communication device of the Department. "Tiger and Lion reported."

Phoenix snarled behind the mask, and quickly cast a heavy privacy charm around the two of them, to the Minister's eternal resigned annoyance. "What?"

"They found something... interesting in Death's Chamber. That was the origin of the explosion, and Rookwood and Malfoy junior were there. The boy says last he knew there were five Unspeakables in the chamber, but Boar's team is nowhere to be found. Bastard's... possessed, I suppose, but Cat drained his memories and they await your order on what to do–"

"Execute him."

"Yes, ma'am" then, as he wrote the order on the small metallic pad, he continued. "They're starting to review the most recent memories, and– holy shit."

"What."

"Panther reported. Boar's people... they're gone."

Feeling Phoenix still at the inevitable conclusion when faced with those words, Chameleon quickly elaborated. "They're not dead, boss, at least not that we can confirm, just... gone. Their wands were found in Death's Chamber and there were no distress signals on their vitals, but _they_ have just... vanished. It's like they never existed in the first place."

Phoenix snarled, and it was evident even through the mask. "Tell Wolf to take a class B team and investigate. Unspeakables can't just _vanish_!"

"Yes, ma'am."

The privacy charm came down, and the Head of the Department of Mysteries turned to look at the Minister of Magic.

"Five Unspeakables are unaccounted for, and we have two intruders. One, Rookwood, is dead; the Malfoy boy is the other, and I _will_ have him in my custody until I learn what happened to my people and how to have them back."

Kingsley blinked slowly, trying to understand, but remembered the common knowledge and just went along with it. He might have been the nominally most powerful man in Wizarding Britain, but the Unspeakables were in many things the power behind the throne. If that Department wished to keep a prisoner, interrogate someone, investigate something or do whatever the hell they did down in their dungeons, you damn well let them do it. They had the power, the means and the ruthlessness needed to crush you if they thought you a hindrance – not for naught the Unspeakables had gained a reputation in Europe for their interventions in the war against Grindlewald.

"Will you hand the boy over when you're done with him?"

Phoenix pursed her lips. "Depends on what happened. I will not be satisfied with him getting a fine if they are dead. Merlin, lifein Azkaban will not be enough if they were injured."

"Phoenix..."

"Those are _my_ people, Shacklebolt. How would _you_ feel if it was an Auror?"

Kingsley made a face. The Head Unspeakable had a point.

"Just... remember there are laws for a reason, alright? If something really happened to them, Malfoy could be looking to lifetime in the high-security wing of Azkaban or even the Veil."

She didn't bother to answer, choosing instead to whirl around and march back to her realm, Chameleon close behind with his nose buried in the communication device.

Oh, the boy was going to suffer alright... just not in Azkaban. That would be too merciful if his actions had actually caused harm to an Unspeakable, regardless of his knowledge and intentions.

Over the following week, the Department of Mysteries dropped all other works (or at least those that weren't high-priority, which still meant that over ninety percent of the ongoing projects were put on hold) in order to dedicate themselves to their missing comrades. They'd effectively recovered the group's wands – singed and a bit cracked, but still capable of casting. However, everything else was impossible to find, including the exact circumstances that had led to the group vanishing. The energy left in Death's Chamber pointed unmistakably to a ritual, but it was something neither of them had ever even heard of and perusing their library was going to take a while.

A big surprise was that there'd been no destruction in that place, despite it being the centre of the explosion. Everything was still standing and even Rookwood, who'd been closest to the Veil and thus apparently the very nucleus of the blast, had gotten out relatively unscathed. In fact, if not for the five missing Unspeakables, they would have never been able to say that something odd had actually happened, and the leftover energy would have been dismissed as a failed ritual.

Malfoy junior didn't know a thing. That was the pure truth. He'd been ordered by his father to sneak into the DoM and get to Death's Chamber, but he didn't know why and had been completely clueless as to Rookwood's involvement. The kid was so stupidly ignorant that it was actually sad, and he'd ended up in a holding cell without his wand, his magic bound and a moderately humane treatment at least until they knew what the hell had happened.

It was Rookwood's memories what finally gave the answer. None of them felt anything but a combination of hate, fear and disgust for it, and they were suddenly glad they'd executed him immediately even though him being dead probably meant they would spend a few extra years trying to figure out how to have their comrades back.

After all, the Department of Mysteries had never actually bothered to spend a lot of time researching into theories of parallel universes, much less completely different ones.

 


End file.
